


Space Jam

by paranormalcy



Category: Watch Dogs (Video Games)
Genre: Cum shot, Established Relationship, F/M, One Shot, Reader-Insert, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Insert, Shotgunning, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 08:19:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16657510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paranormalcy/pseuds/paranormalcy
Summary: A visit to Wrench’s garage results in a very unexpected afternoon. AKA: You and Wrench get stoned and fuck.





	Space Jam

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this ready to go since April 2017 but I’ve been too full of self doubt to actually post it. Figured I should finally pull the trigger on that. I’ve never smoked weed in my life and it very likely shows, I asked a friend who does smoke to proofread it for me but she’s never had the time.

The moment the shutter clatters open you know Wrench is in, if it wasn't obvious by the obnoxiously loud music playing, the smell of weed is a dead giveaway. "You better not be stoned without me," you mutter, closing the shutter behind you. A quick glance around the garage and you realize there's no Wrench in sight. "Wrench?! You alive?"

"If you wanna partake get the fuck into my office," he shouts back, his synthetic voice mostly drowned out by the music as it drifts from the room upstairs. You sigh and climb onto the top of the junker car before jumping and grabbing the lowest railing. You begin pulling yourself up but your arms give, leaving you dangling awkwardly, struggling to pull back up. You silently curse all those times you turned down Sitara's offers of going to the gym together. Your legs flail as you fail to find anything to kick off below you, a string of garbled noises coming up your throat in panic. 

Wrench hears your distress and quickly rushes out to catch your arms, grunting as he drags you over the railing. He stumbles backwards, tripping over his own unfastened shoes, and falls onto his ass, your full weight crashing down on top of him with a pained cry from both of you. Noting that you'll have several new bruises tomorrow, you're at least somewhat grateful he isn't wearing the spiked vest; landing on metal spikes would've made the whole experience suck ten times more than it already did. "Why the  _ fuck  _ did you get rid of the ladder again?!" 

"So thieving fucks can't steal my shit." He wriggles out from under you, getting to his feet, and heads back along the catwalk into the office as you watch from a heap on the floor, after a moment of continued gawping he calls back out to you, "hurry the fuck up, you're late to the party." 

"Funny, I thought you were alone up here with your Playboy magazines," you smirk, internally trying to shrug off your new injuries as you struggle to get to your feet, failing to be subtle as you jog after him and peer around the doorway in time to see Wrench flash you double equals signs - narrowed eyes. 

"I get my porn on the internet like everybody else," he retorts, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff.

"Oh yeah?" you ask, eyebrows raising, "what's this then?" you nudge a cardboard box just inside the office doorway, one that's marked ' _ precious memories _ '.

"Childhood photographs," he says without missing a beat.

"Oh, so you moved the 80s porn then?" you crouch down and flip open the box to show him several stolen X-rated VHS tapes, a bunch of porn magazines, and a few dozen external hard drives. You lift one of the magazines up and flick through it, grimacing at a few pages that're stuck together. " _ Nice _ ."

"What, like you don't have a fucking tumblr blog filled with porn-"

"I do not-"

"I've seen it!" 

You hesitate, staring up at him, "I don't," you repeat, resolute. He just nods, those narrowed equals eyes showing again. You throw your hands up in defeat, "okay, fine!"

"You're into some weird shit," he blurts.

You hold up one of the external hard drives, "and you're not?" You grin, "yknow I'm pretty curious what lies in Wrench's spank bank-" 

He starts crossing to you, "I swear to god-" he grabs your wrist, making you drop the hard drive back into the box, his visor displaying angry slashes, his breath coming in huffs. Your lips twitch into a smirk without you telling them to. He drops your wrist. "Don't make everything all sexually tense."

"Oh, is that what I was doing?" you ask innocently, he grabs your waist and spins you, pushing you roughly back towards his mattress, your foot hits the edge of it and you tumble, landing on your ass on his makeshift bed. " _ Siska _ ."

He hesitates, "you're using the safeword already?"

"I didn't come here for sex, Wrench, I came here to hang out," you shift on the mattress, shrugging up at him, "I could hear your 'stoned as fuck' playlist and the smell of weed was literally seeping through every crack in the building - I'm serious, dude, you can smell that shit down the street - I wanted to join."

"If you can smell it down the street then you should already be getting contact high so you're either lying or you just wanna drain my stash, in which case you can go sit in the corner and shut the fuck up."

"Fuck you," you reach for the tin you know Wrench keeps his drug stash in and he immediately jumps into action, landing on his knees beside you, he snatches the tin away and holds it protectively against his chest. "Either roll a joint or grab a bong," you say with a shrug, "I'm not going anywhere."

He huffs out a breath, "you're  _ very  _ fucking annoying, d'ya know that?" You grin at him and he opens the tin, setting to work preparing the joint while you lay back and stare up at the glow in the dark stars covering the office ceiling - it also doubled as Wrench's bedroom most nights and he said it helped. 

It's also fucking amazing when he turns the lights off, all the stars start glowing, and you're completely tripping out on shrooms - last time the two of you did that you thought you were Princess Leia for a solid hour and Wrench did  _ nothing  _ to correct you. Actually, now that you think about it, you're pretty sure he was convinced he was Boba Fett, hunting you through space because you stole his last rainbow donut... 

You two came up with some pretty amazing stories laying on that mattress, high out of your minds, legs tangled, him holding your hand so you didn't get lost. His whispers painting a crazy picture of lightsaber battles and interplanetary travel. Your own whispers adding in the finishing touches, the extra details. He gets hung up on the gore, so you add in the first aid, the aftercare, the adding of a bandaid and a kiss better. He can draw the world in black, white, and every shade of grey, but the only colour he knows is  _ red _ . You add the rest; you're pretty sure he appreciates it but with Wrench it's hard to tell sometimes.

When you glance back at Wrench he's lifted the mask half up, uncovering the lower half of his face. You're used to seeing this much of him - it felt like such a privilege the first time he let you see him like this, now you're just wondering if he'll ever feel comfortable taking it all the way off. It's been nearly a year since you started hanging out - you're sure that when he's ready to show you, he will... whether that happens in the next ten years or not, the jury is still out.

He puffs out the smoke and offers you the joint, you move to sit upright as he shifts to sit beside you, his back against his pillows, "Captain's Log," he starts, slipping into a deeper voice as he starts painting a picture of today's story - it's  _ never  _ necessary for him to do this but he's a giant nerd and always jumps at the chance. "Stardate, 2017.124," your lips twitch up - he's always impressed you with his ability to quickly work out out what Stardate it'd be; maybe he has an app on his phone or knows something you don't.

You take a drag off the joint, letting him sling an arm around you as you settle back against the pillows beside him. "The Klingons have taken the ship - the crew have been scattered, most are dead, I don't know how we can survive this-"

"You're not alone, Captain," you breathe out the smoke, glancing over at him, he takes the joint back and takes a drag, letting you take over, "you have me - we're together-"

"What good are we without the rest of our crew, Commander?" Wrench asks, his voice sounding deeper solely from the smoke now as it slips out of his mouth while he speaks.

"I've always thought you were good," you say quietly, sincerely, "with or without a crew, you're one of the strongest, bravest people I know."

He hesitates, gulping in surprise, "that sounded weirdly honest."

"It was," you tell him, "I think it's the weed talking."

He hums, "yeah, it might be," he sighs quietly, tapping his foot on the concrete floor. "We've been doing this how long?"

You give him a rough estimate, "at least a year," although you could probably tell him the exact date you first hung out. Out of habit you reach over to brush your fingers against his knuckles, something you always do when he's nervous and you're alone, he tugs his hand away from you and you frown. That's not normal. 

Ellipses flash across his mask display as he turns toward you, catching you the briefest glimpse of him worrying his lip, "this might also be the weed but I don't want us to be casual anymore."

You hesitate, brain fumbling over the words, he doesn't want- what? "You don't- wait- you want us to be a thing? Like... like a couple?"

"If you do," he breathes, "yeah, if- fuck- yeah,  _ yes _ , I wanna be your boyfriend." You open your mouth to answer but you can't find the right words - the right way to say yes - so instead you nod, frantically, like you've turned into a freaking bobblehead. You see his lips twitch up as he reaches up and takes hold of the mask, pushing it up onto the top of his head. You don't react for a moment while what you're seeing processes. Yep, that's  _ definitely  _ Wrench's face. His actual human face. 

You're not sure what you expected but it wasn't that - the lower half of his face comes as no surprise, you've seen it a hundred times before, but the hooked nose, birthmark, and those sky blue eyes? A nervous laugh escapes before you can stop it, "you're real," you blurt. God - those  _ eyes _ . His eyes meet yours and they look as nervous as you feel, your cheeks flush, "I mean - you're human- I mean-" you stammer to find the right words, " _ fuck _ ! You're... you're not actually some sort of hideous cyborg mutant creature, or an alien wearing a skin suit?"

"I'm human," he confirms, before shrugging and glancing down at the joint between his fingers, quietly adding, "probably, though that cyborg mutant thing sounds like it'd be fun." He takes another drag, hooking a finger under your chin to draw you closer, his lips meet yours. Both your lips part as he releases the smoke into your mouth, your eyes fluttering shut - he'd done this a hundred times and it'd never felt this good before, this intoxicating or mindnumbing, it was like- like the weed wasn't the only thing you were getting high off of - you suck the smoke back, letting it fill your lungs with burning warmth, tears springing to your eyes at the overwhelming urge to cough it back out. 

Wrench pulls away, allowing you to breathe again - a spluttering cough bringing a sliver of the smoke back up - you're not sure you want to if it means he'll pull away. He still seems so unsure, so uncertain, "is that okay-?"

In answer you catch the front of his hoodie, tugging him back in, your lips meeting his in an uncoordinatedly sloppy kiss; you're not entirely certain if you're too stoned to kiss right or if you're just out of practice. Maybe it's just the nerves. Wrench's free hand comes up to brush against your cheek and -  _ oh my god  _ \- is he shaking? 

You can feel your heart hammering in your ears, pulse pounding, his mouth moving against yours, teeth periodically clashing, it's almost painful, almost bruising as his lips press against yours . Almost. Wrench's too careful, he's too... gentle. It feels so weird. He's never  _ careful _ , he's never  _ gentle _ . Never. 

When you break apart you're both panting for air, your fingers grasping at his hoodie, curling and uncurling in the fabric, your hot breaths dancing across his face, "I thought you didn't come here for sex," Wrench says, slightly mocking though you can tell he's still surprised you haven't run away yet.

You hesitate for a moment before saying, "plans change," he closes the gap between you again, his tongue pushing roughly into your mouth, he swallows the groan that slips from your parted lips, your tongue strokes the underside of his, but he pulls back quickly, a string of creative curses falling from his lips as you're reminded of the joint burning away between his fingers, you watch while he examines the accidental burn mark on his hoodie and the slightly crushed joint, worrying your lip between your teeth, "are we too stoned to do this?"

He glances down at his jeans which are already starting to strain, the outline of his quickly growing erection clear enough to make a fire ignite in the pit of your stomach, a desperate want, "well my dick definitely isn't."

Your eyebrows raise, trying to be as teasing as you usually are. Maybe it'll make him less nervous. "Is that a  _ side effect  _ or something?"

"Of a hot girl licking my fucking tongue while it's in her mouth, yeah," he says, pausing for a split second before he says, suddenly trying to play it off, "I get hard over weird shit, kinda my thing," he shrugs. 

"So it  _ is  _ a stoner boner?" you breathe, lips twitching up as you struggle to hold back a laugh, this definitely feels more normal, "man, I always wanted to see one, thought they were a myth."

"You laugh but they're a legitimate problem plaguing stoners with dicks everywhere," he says, "at least, horny stoners with dicks."

"Mm," your fingers run over his chest, "how much do you want me to take off my pants right now?"

"So much," he breathes, you pluck the joint out of his fingers and take a drag - it's over half way gone now and you're not gonna waste it - he leans over you, mouth trailing up your neck to your jaw, "you're so fucking hot," his voice sounds so deep - growly even - you choke back a surprised whimper as you place the joint between your lips, holding it there while you unfasten your belt and jeans. Wrench moves back, taking the joint from you so he can take a drag before it burns out - knowing that soon you're both going to be too distracted to remember it anyway.

You push your jeans harshly down your thighs, pausing to pull off your boots and socks, they land on the office floor with your jeans and panties soon following. Your knees twitch open at the sight of Wrench sitting in front of you, the joint between his lips, palming himself through his jeans, "I wanna see you touch yourself," he says, the marijuana cigarette bouncing as he speaks, "I know it's gonna be really difficult with this," he motions to his face, "watching you but-"

You frown at him, "dude, you're not that bad looking, I mean you met the guy I dated last Summer,  _ that  _ guy was ugly."

His nose scrunches, drawing your attention to it - it's actually kinda cute, and- "urgh he was, what did you see in him?"

You shrug, lips twitching up, "he was smart, had a nice car, a good job, a  _ really  _ nice dick - the important stuff, yknow?" 

"Oh of course," he nods, you start nodding too, swallowing hard, he catches your ankle and pulls you closer until he's kneeling between your legs. "Now," he says, "I'm smart - I  _ think,  _ " you nod, voicing your agreement, he smiles slightly, "I have a nice car - multiple, actually, all  _ stolen  _ but they are nice; I have a good job - the same one as you, doesn't pay well but yknow, we can  _ make  _ people pay; and I personally think I have a nice dick-"

"You do," you breathe. 

His lips twitch up again, "so," he says, "how about you gimme a show and if you do good I'll give you this?" He reaches down and grips himself through his jeans. Your hand moves to your thigh, his eyes watching as you slowly trail your fingers up the inside, "higher than that, babe, don't tease," he breathes, you bite down on your lip and move your fingers to rub at your folds, you hear him swallow as your fingers slide between, smirking up at him as you spread yourself, showing him how wet you are already. 

"You sure you don't wanna help?" you ask him, your voice almost a purr, he shifts uncomfortably, his jeans clearly starting to get a little too tight, "Wrench," he swallows hard as your fingers curl around his wrist, "I'm so wet for you."

"Fuck," he blurts, "fucking-  _ fuck _ !" Your lips twitch up, he takes the blunt from his lips and hands it to you, you let go of his wrist to slide your fingers between your folds, teasing your clit as you bring the joint up to your lips and take a drag, watching with amusement as Wrench desperately fumbles to pop the button on his jeans. 

He pushes both his jeans and boxers down his thighs far enough for his erection to spring free from its confines, he pats his pockets down, searching for a moment for the foil packet he could  _ swear  _ he had in there somewhere, the moment his fingers find it he pulls it out and holds it aloft with a cheer, your lips twitching into a brief smile before faltering as you circle your clit with your finger, your breath shakes, jaw clenching, and you hum; a breathy laugh coming out through your nose at the sudden spike of pleasure, "hurry up or you're gonna miss the best part."

He doesn't waste any time in opening the foil wrapper and rolling the condom on, then his hands are gripping your hips, tugging you closer, pushing your knees back, he pauses for a moment, watching your fingers rub your clit before he swallows hard and lines himself up. When he pushes inside you he's not gentle, his hips snap up to meet yours - hard, fast - and a broken cry slips past your lips, your head falling back against the mattress.

He squeezes his eyes shut, fully seated in you, his fingertips firmly digging into your skin, "oh fuck," his head bows down, a groan slipping from his lips, "you're so tight-  _ fuck _ ."

The only response you can muster is a whimper, your fingers continuing to draw you closer to your orgasm, he shifts positions slightly, nudging your hand out of the way; he presses lightly on your pubic bone - something he's picked up from watching too much amature porn but given that the sex always feels better when he does it you figure there must be  _ something  _ in it - his thumb sliding between your folds so he can circle your clit. 

He leans over you, watching your face intensely as your eyes squeeze shut, "you like that?" he breathes, slowly starting to move his hips, barely giving you anything at first before he increases his speed and starts thrusting harder, changing up his rhythm to make you keen beneath him. He nips along your jaw, leaving small pinkish red marks in his wake. A particularly well angled thrust releases a dam of profanity and cries of his name, the nails on your free hand scratching marks across his shoulders. 

Your vision is beginning to blur from the intensity of the pleasure and fuck - you haven't even hit your peak yet, your head falls to the side, letting Wrench's attack on your neck continue as he violently bites down, roughly sucking a purple mark onto your skin. 

You bring your other hand up to run through his hair and catch sight of the joint burning between your fingers; it's almost burnt out now.  _ You could ignore it _ , you remind yourself,  _ you could let it burn out in the ashtray beside his bed _ . Instead you find yourself bringing it up to your lips, taking a drag from the filter, then something releases inside you and you cry out, your head falling back as your orgasm hits you without warning, your muscles quivering, your walls trembling around him.

Wrench grunts at the sudden change in sensation encircling his cock, leaning in as the smoke drifts up from your open mouth to catch it in a gasp, slowly breathing it back into his lungs as his blue eyes flutter shut, rolling back in his head. A deep throaty groan slips from his lips in place of an exhale.

You're convinced you stop breathing for a second - though it feels more like an hour - as you stare up at the ceiling stars, your heart hammering in your chest, your pulse pounding in your ears, muscles trembling, breath trapped in your throat behind a cacophony of pleasure as Wrench continues to fuck you through your orgasm, and when you finally come back to yourself the only thing you can do is whimper, " _ Wrench _ ," and lean up to press your lips against his.

When you break apart you're met with the most beautiful sight you've ever seen - Wrench's face scrunched up in ecstacy, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, wet lips parted, his fingers digging into your thigh as he tries to pull you closer, his thumb still rubbing circles against your swollen clit. "Fuck," you gasp, glancing quickly to the side trying to spot the ashtray, you rid yourself of the blunt then begin stripping off your shirt. 

Wrench pauses and starts helping you as you fight your way free, then you wrap your arms around his neck and pull yourself up, "take off my bra," you tell him. He tries to meet your eyes for a moment, surprise clear on his face - usually you just fuck sloppily with your clothes still half on, and on more than one occasion you've forgotten to stock up on condoms and ended up with Wrench's cum striping the insides of your thighs - his fingers move to fumble with the clasp, eventually managing to get it unfastened. 

Falling back against the mattress, you pull the bra away from your chest, setting it - and your shirt - to the side. "Why'd you wanna take off your shirt?" he asks.

"This might be the weed talking again - probably not since I've wanted this for  _ ages  _ \- but I need you to cum on my tits," his eyes widen, " _ please _ ?"

"Yeah," he breathes, "yeah, I'll- yes, absolutely." 

Your lips twitch up, "want me to ride you?"

He swallows hard, his voice squeaks slightly as he answers, "yeah, if you do that I'll bust a nut, so if you want me to pull out, take off the condom and-"

"Message received, Captain," you reach up to run your hands down his chest, it only takes a moment for your hands to start wandering, dipping beneath his hoodie, fingertips grazing over skin until you find the barbels piercing his nipples, you bite back a moan, roughly working the sensitive nubs, he whimpers as he moves to firmly grip your hips, pulling you down to meet him every time his hips snap up.

You feel your eyes roll back, your hands withdrawing from his hoodie, one grasping his shoulder - holding on for dear life - while the other cups his cheek, you force your eyes to focus, to just take a moment to take in the sight in front of you - the light glistening off his sweat damp brow, the way his eyes flutter shut every time he tries to open them, wrinkling slightly at the corners as he squeezes them together more firmly when the pleasure becomes just  _ too  _ intense - and when they do open, the way they're unfocused as he desperately chases down that orgasm - and fuck, the  _ sounds  _ he's making. 

You're near to silent now just so you can hear those delicious sounds, watch as his lips part and a gasp of ecstacy slips from them, a moan as sweet as honey, and a groan so deeply throaty, so intensely sexy, that it puts you right back on the edge. 

His hips start losing rhythm, though you're not entirely sure they ever had a rhythm to begin with; mostly just sloppy, jarring thrusts at oddly timed intervals. He makes a slightly higher pitched noise in his throat and suddenly you feel very empty, his hand moving away from your hips as he pulls the condom off, throwing it somewhere across the room - not quite the trash can but close enough - he grips himself firmly, stroking his foreskin up over the head of his cock, the curved silver piercing disappearing briefly before it reappears again a moment later. 

He grunts above you, eyes tightly shut, lips parted - you almost feel like you should look away, after so long seeing him with the mask on it feels like an invasion to see him without it. He took it off, he gave you permission, right? 

You glance back down at the work his fingers are doing, you can't help but reach down and start rubbing your clit; the show you're getting is just too hot to resist touching yourself. Wrench forces his eyes open as a moan slips from your own lips, watching you pleasure yourself as he works himself to orgasm. His hand is moving slowly - much slower than he was fucking you - like he's trying to draw it out. 

You hit your peak before he does, your back arching as you fall apart, a guttural cry of his name ripping its way out of your throat, vision going blinding white as you squeeze your eyes shut, your entire body beginning to tremble. Your eyes meet Wrench's as your back hits the mattress again, your clit starting to twitch against your fingers. He makes a noise in the back of his throat - a deep grunt - his head falling back, jaw falling slack. Ribbons of his release start to decorate your body, leaving off-white stripes across your tits and stomach.  He forces himself to look, to watch. Your eyes meet his, listening with a smug smirk to the string of profanity he releases at the sight before him. 

Wrench's hand continues moving, slowly easing to a stop once he's completely spent, his shoulders slump forward, slouching a little as he sits trying to process what he just did. "Yknow," he says after a moment, "that was one of my top ten spank bank fantasies."

You let out a laugh, "this exact scenario?"

"Pretty close to it," he admits, your eyebrows raise and his lips twitch up, "normally you'd taste it." You glance down at yourself, then run a finger through the longest line of cum - the one across your left breast - gathering it up, then you bring it up to your mouth. With eyes half lidded you lick it clean, slowly dragging your tongue up your finger leaving a wet stripe in it's wake. " _ Fuck _ \- yep, yeah, like  _ that _ ," he stammers, your lips twitch up.

"Tastes good," you tell him, he groans, falling dramatically onto his back on the mattress beside you, "did the blunt burn out?" 

Wrench glances as you point to where it's lying, now completely burnt out, in the ashtray. He frowns, "want me to roll another?"

You think for a moment, frowning too but in concentration rather than any emotion, then you quietly say, "I kinda wanna sleep if that's cool with you?"

He nods, lifting his hips up so he can pull his boxers and jeans back up, he lands back down on the mattress with a soft 'unf,' fastening his jeans once more. You watch as he jumps up and begins searching the room, returning once he's found an old tee that he uses to carefully wipe away the remnants of his release. He balls up the soiled tee before throwing it across to the garbage can and laying back down next to you, his gaze fixed on the ceiling stars for a moment before he rolls onto his side facing you, wriggling closer. 

Your breath catches in your throat as his hand moves to rest lightly on your stomach, face pressing against your cheek, "is this okay?"

You hesitate for a second as you think it over, you almost say no, that it's too much too soon but then you feel that familiar uneven thudding in your chest, those butterflies in your stomach beneath his palm; you swallow down your fear and you say, "yeah."

"Okay," he breathes, weirdly quiet without his mask, you've noticed. 

"Do you wanna put your mask back on?" you ask him.

"Not right now." Unable to turn your head without bumping heads or noses with him you do the next best thing; you reach for his free hand, tangling your fingers with his. 

He sighs happily and nuzzles against your cheek, the bottom of his mask rubbing against your temple, "you're my wet dream." You giggle and he grins, "go to sleep, Commander, we'll rescue the crew tomorrow."

"Alright, Captain," you breathe, eyes closing, it doesn't take much time before you feel sleep starting to pull at you. Wait- You turn your head slightly towards Wrench, your cheek pressing against his face, "yknow - fucking your Commander is  _ extremely  _ frowned upon, Captain." 

He hums in response, "yeah, well, if they wanna complain I'll throw 'em into space." 

You laugh sleepily, feeling yourself being dragged into unconsciousness, "I wanna hear your other fantasies, maybe we can..." you yawn, trailing off as the weight of your tiredness becomes too heavy.

Wrench moves back to glance down at you, worrying his lip for a moment. He swallows hard, hand moving to touch the edge of his mask, looking over at the door as he considers his options; someone could come in and see him without his mask, afterall. 

No. He'd hear them come in and he'd definitely wake up before they managed to climb up to the office.

He looks back down at your sleeping form, completely naked on his mattress, baring everything to him.  _ If she can do that... _

It can stay off. At least for now.

He settles back down beside you, gently extracting the mask from under his hood to set it on the ground next to the mattress. "Y/N?" he leans over you; you don't stir, sleep holding on too firmly.

He nods contently, nuzzling against your neck for a moment, you hum happily in your sleep and he freezes up until he realizes you haven't awoken, then quietly whispers. "I love you."

He can almost hear your smug 'I know' as he, too, drifts off to sleep. Almost. But you're definitely still sleeping.

'I love you too.'

His lips twitch up.


End file.
